Beneath the Facade
by Spankbending
Summary: Raven/Wolverine one-shot. For I-Am-Zandra. WARNINGS: Spanking! Thematic elements. Please use your own discretion.


"Access code correct. Retinal scan required."

A fierce green iris was scanned by Cerebro's security system.

"Subject Identified As: Jean Grey, Codename: Phoenix. Access granted."

The metal X turned 180 degrees and the doors opened. The green eyes turned a fiery, unnatural yellow, and the petite, fair-skinned woman in her mid-twenties became a taller, exotic looking woman with an athletic build and a cerulean tone. The one thing that stayed the same was the scarlet ponytail, a look that Mystique had been trying out as of late.

"When will they ever learn?" she mused to herself. Even though it had become a cakewalk to wait for one of the students of the Xavier Mansion to leave, assume their identity and work her way through the security, she still found the job immensely satisfying...not that she was here on business.

"Funny," growled the unmistakable and intimidating voice that she had grown very fond of. "I was about to say the same thing about you."

Mystique closed her eyes and bit her lip. She placed her right hand just above her hip and turned to face the man who'd been following her down two hallways. He was a short, muscular man, with thick hair covering his cheeks...and most of his bare chest. Had he thought he'd been stalking her unnoticed, or was it all part of the game?

"Ooo, little wolfie's come out to play," she teased, flicking her hair up so that her ponytail landed on her shoulder and stared intensely at him. Quite an intimidating figure in her own right, she knew that this man would always best her in a fight. Which is what had her coming back here, risking an encounter with all of the X-Men for an encounter with just one of them.

"Your powers may help you sneak by everyone else, Mystique..."

"Raven," she corrected, tilting her head slightly, a condescending, defiant gesture. That was her real name, or at least as real as a name as a lifetime of switching identities allowed her to remember.

"...but Wolverine never forgets a scent."

"Especially after last time," Raven reminded with a wink. No, there was not much they could forget about each other after the last time they met.

"Logan," she breathed, using his "real" name with a familiarity that would have made his teammates' eyebrows raise.

He smirked, a cocky, almost hungry look on his face that made Raven weak at the knees...not that she would admit it. Logan walked within arms reach of her, and crossed his arms. Unconsciously she lowered her posture, still keeping her eyes on his, resisting the urge to jump into his arms. No...the game had to continue.

"I thought you were done spying for Magneto." It was more of a question than a statement, and while calm, had the undercurrent of a threat to it that made him all the more intimidating. And he was intimidating enough on his own.

Her face scrunched up uncomfortably at the mention of her previous...employer. Among other things. It was the last thought she wanted on her mind right now. Though of course she couldn't blame him for being suspicious given their troubled history.

"I am," she spat. Then she opened her eyes and looked up at him, almost pouting. "I came. Alone. Because I wanted to." She really hoped that she wouldn't have to add "see you" on that sentence. Raven had her pride, she didn't want to admit emotional vulnerability, at least not until he gave her what she wanted.

Wolverine sighed with relief. "What are you doing here, Raven?" he asked in a low growl that made her think of a cat purring. "It's dangerous. If the X-Men found you..."

She rolled her eyes. "I _like_ danger. It's _exciting_," she murmured. "Know what I mean?"

Immediately going into seduction mode, she raised one hip slightly, wrapped one arm just under her breasts, and tossed her ponytail around with her other hand. It worked like a charm, and Logan was eying every inch of her, no doubt undressing her in his mind.

She narrowed her eyes and when Logan's caught hers, he gulped. Her message of _I know what you're thinking_ was evidently well heard.

"Uh...yeah," he said, shaking his head. "Look, all I'm saying is, you should know by now..."

Oh, why did he have to be the good man and try to send her away? Was it to protect her from the X-Men? Or perhaps he felt guilty about the whole thing? It didn't matter...not now. She hadn't come here for nothing.

She pushed her fingers to his lips to quiet him, loving the soft moistness of them and imagining them pressed to her own...like last time. Looking at him with the gentle intensity that only lovers can manage, she allowed herself to be vulnerable for a moment, letting him know that she wanted him. And he melted. One sigh, one weak smile...and he was hers.

"I'm a slow learner," she said, closing the door on the forced awkwardness.

Logan grabbed her hand and pulled it down, a firm but not painful grip that made her toes curl inside her boots. "Perhaps you need the right teacher," he answered with something of a laugh in his voice.

She raised her eyebrows with mock indignation. Then, following an impulse, she transformed the white dress and boots she'd been wearing into a Catholic schoolgirl outfit, complete with knee high socks and a red flannel skirt that was about an inch too short.

Logan's jaw dropped for a second, but he managed to close it before he embarrassed himself too much. _It never fails_, she laughed to herself, mentally doing a celebratory dance for her stroke of brilliance

"Perhaps I do," she cooed girlishly, clasping her hands together and gazing flirtatiously at him. "Mr. Logan, would you like to..." she waited a second, letting him think of everything he would like to do, and then finished with "...help me with my studies?"

Logan's eyes went wide, but he nodded, clearly getting his head into the game. And there it was again. The smirk. The cocky smirk that Raven loved...the one that told her Logan was in control and she was not, that she was vulnerable and he was dominant. It was a feeling that Raven didn't experience much anymore...a strong, capable and independent woman was not easily tamed.

But Logan...Logan was a different beast. He was stronger than her, both physically and mentally. He could do anything he wanted to her, and she could do nothing but weakly protest. That danger was exciting, and more than anything, it was what attracted her to him. It was silly, almost pathetic for her to have a "Bad Boy" crush at her age...but there it was.

She allowed him to guide her by the hand to a room about ten feet from where they were, absentmindedly pressing her skirt against her legs with her free hand. She watched him type in an unfamiliar password. Instinctively, she memorized it...you could never have too much information.

"Access code correct. Retinal scan required."

"Subject Identified As: Logan, Codename: Wolverine. Access granted."

"Run Program 2703, Codename:..." and he paused and looked at her with narrowed, greedy eyes. She bit her lip in nervous anticipation. "...Detention."

Mystique had to stop herself from snorting. "You have a program for this sort of thing?" she asked in near disbelief, walking ahead into the room, being sure to give Logan a teasing view of her panties, barely visible beneath the skirt.

"Well, it IS a school!" Logan said, as if it was perfectly normal to have a holographic room that would create a principal's office with a desk with a very nice cushioned chair on one side and a simple wooden stool on the other. Raven had to admire the authentic feel of it...having been a principal herself, the illusion was very total. She now had a certain empathy for her students. Though she doubted any of them had the floaty, fluffy butterflies-in-her-stomach sort of feeling she had when she was around Logan.

"This is what the X-Men affectionately refer to as the Danger Room," he explained. "Part gymnasium, part obstacle course, part sparring room. And all combat simulation. Hence the holographic tech."

"Ah," she said, running her fingers on the table; it felt exactly like a polished oak desk should feel. The illusion was perfect, and the setting was very intimate.

"But, well, it has more uses than training. The teachers...Storm, Beast, me...we use this setting whenever one of the students is giving us trouble," he explained, sounding a little bit nervous.

Half-listening but still inspecting, she opened the drawer and reached in, gasping with surprise when her palm wrapped around the handle. It couldn't be...

"For disciplinary purposes," he said with a grim finality.

"Disciplinary purposes?" she repeated indignantly, revealing the small, round rectangle of quarter-inch thick cherry wood. Twisting and turning the object in her hand and staring at Logan, her mind contemplating the situation and whether or not she liked the road this game went down.

And in this moment, the stoic, dominant, scary Logan she knew looked very feeble, afraid and weak. The ball was in her court, it was up to her where this went. He was vulnerable, and she was in control. And she hated it.

She took a deep breath, and asked as calmly as possible, though still trembling on the words, "Logan, do you intend to paddle me?"

His right arm scratched behind his unmistakable haircut. He stammered ever so slightly. "Y-yeah." Then, stronger, more confidant, came. "Yes. Raven, that's what I want to do."

She closed her eyes, and thought about it really hard for a moment. It was...definitely different. Not that she'd not engaged in a little rough play before. But this was a bit kinkier than she was used to, especially with her in the schoolgirl outfit. Still...the idea. Logan, overpowering her, controlling her, forcing her to submit to him. The idea appealed to the part of her that loved being vulnerable, at Logan's mercy, physically and mentally...and there was no doubt in her mind what she wanted.

Her eyes opened, and she smiled. "Well...I have been a bad girl lately." It was sheepish, and felt...weird coming out of her mouth, but once it was out, she felt positive about it.

Logan seemed to relax, as if a big load was taken off his shoulders. "Lately? How about as long as I've known you."

She chuckled in spite of herself. Humor, wit...this was good. Still a little awkward, but more in her comfort zone. She slid the paddle across the desk, closer to him. "I'm sure you'll set me straight."

He smiled. "That's for my students...not for you." He casually tossed the paddle across the room like yesterday's garbage.

"Oh thank God," she gasped with relief. That was the part she had been dreading. But with that set aside and no other implement in sight, she found the last option rather appealing. Nervously fixing her hair, she stared down at her outfit, and then at Logan.

"Logan...do you mind if I change? This feels very...weird."

"Sure," he said, shrugging apathetically. "Whatever you're most comfortable in."

Raven smiled, and thought of an outfit that would work best for this...thing. Two seconds later, and the uniform was replaced with tight leather pants, with high heel boots, matching gloves, and the final touch, a black and red corset that pressed tightly against her buxom. Once again, only her scarlet ponytail, brilliant yellow eyes and blue skin remained the same.

"Uh...wow," Wolverine said, clearly no longer apathetic.

"Glad you approve," she said, sliding onto the desk to face him. "Come here, please."

"Sure thing, sweetheart," the deep baritone answered and came within reach of her legs. She pulled him closer to her and wrapped her hands around his neck, then reached up and kissed him, softly, slowly, savoring their taste on her lips.

"I trust you," Raven whispered softly. "And I want to make you happy..."

"You've done that already," Wolverine assured her, his calloused hands rubbing gently across her face.

"But...if I say 'Stop,' then you better stop, got it?" she said, raising a declarative finger. If she was gonna submit to him, it would be on her terms, not his.

"No promises," he responded automatically, smirking again.

Mystique narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. "Logan, don't you dare..."

Now he stopped her protests with a finger on her mouth. She squirmed, her defense melting at his touch. Already, she found herself eager to get started. Nerve-racking though this may be, with him, it all seemed easy, natural.

"Okay. I promise. My word is my bond."

Yes, Wolverine was dominating. He could do whatever he wanted to do to her, and all she could do was weakly protest. That's why she was so powerfully, urgently attracted to him. But he was also gentle, kind, a soft, warm heart inside of a beast. That's why she was in love with him.

Raven slid her body out of a sitting position and onto her stomach, bending over so that her bottom was perfectly on display. She looked back at him and smirked, watching his eyes zone in on their target. Unable to help herself, she swayed her hips ever so slightly, an inviting sight to any man.

Logan pressed his palm against her bottom, and she gasped with delight at his touch. She'd guessed right, and couldn't be happier. The thought of his hand slapping her rear end, the pain and warmth it would create, followed by the gentle caresses she fondly remembered from their last meeting...oh, she was hot for it! His fingers glided against her skin, feeling every bit of the curvature. Part of Raven could let him fondle her like this for hours...but there was an urgent, pressing need to be controlled, not served.

"So, am I getting spanked, or you just gonna grope me all day like a teenager?" she spat, venomously. Or, at least as venomously as she could be while begging him to spank her.

It took just a second; she felt his hand leave, heard the SMACK of bone and muscle on leather, and heard herself yelp instinctively before the feeling registered. It was like getting shocked, and the feeling went across her cheek and down her legs, and she felt it in her toes. This sting...and then a burn.

And SMACK! The same sharp pain on the other side. Her fingers and toes curled, she winced and choked out a gasp of surprise. Then, the warmth, the light buzz as it settled in...

More thunderous cracks! Just as she started to like the feeling building inside of her, Logan punished her again and again, a flurry of solid, memorable slaps. She yelped and whimpered and squirmed, but stayed in position. It was like this was happening to someone else, except for the fire in her muscles and the water welling under her eyelids.

It took about a minute of continuous, steady swats for Raven to get over the shock. Gradually, she steeled her nerves and stifled her whimpers and braced herself each time she felt his hand leave her seat. The force of his strikes pressed her forward into the desk, but she barely noticed. More pressing was the tremors of force rippling across her skin each time his palm landed, and the rising temperature underneath.

It was a new, overwhelming sensation for her, and it DID hurt. Each smack seemed to bring with it a new way to cope; she gnashed her teeth, tensed her thighs, whipped her head back, crossed her ankles, dug her fingers into the desk, shifted her shoulders and bucked her hips. And try as she might to control herself, little cries, yelps, whimpers and gasps escaped from her lungs. She sung and danced to the rhythm of his unyielding, steady hand.

But not once did she have any thoughts of asking him to stop. Yes, each slap of his hand shot a bolt of searing flame through her body. But the feeling of total vulnerability and the somehow pleasurable warmth that stayed with her after the swats, and the sheer erotic thought of his hand touching such a sensitive part of his anatomy...Raven was at a loss to describe how she felt. Except that she knew she wanted more.

"W-wait..." she whispered urgently when Logan's hand reached into the air again. Mystique took a deep breath and savored the moment where there was no fresh sting to distract her from the ever present burn in her backside. It was then that she noticed the cold, wet trail of tears on her face. Had she really being crying that much? Wow. What an incredible loss of control...

Flooded with a blurred, heated mess of thoughts, Raven managed to do what she had intended to do. Her thumbs slid into her skin-tight pants and rolled them down. The leather burned as it was raked across the tender skin and she let out a meek set of cries. Finally she rested the leather just beneath the undercurve of her bottom and moved her hands up front. Because she craved to feel Logan's hand on her bare bottom, flesh against flesh...

Yes, she could have easily shifted the clothes out of existence and instantly provided him a naked target. But that was a moment she needed. The brief calmness where she could absorb how she felt without a distraction, the very submissive, primal act of willingly and seductively exposing herself. She looked back at Logan with a pleading look.

He answered her immediately, and Raven shrieked in response. Did the thin layer of leather really soften the blows that much? Or was it because her bottom was already sore and vulnerable? Maybe, just maybe, Logan's more primal instincts got the best of him and he really put some force into the slap. Whatever the reason, the contact physically shook her whole body, and the shrill noise escaped her lungs, followed by loud sobs and panting as she struggled for a moment to breathe.

It should have been one of the most terrifying things in her life. Wolverine, perhaps the toughest, sternest man she knew, infamous for his nearly uncontrollable and often unpredictable temper, was beating the living daylights out of her. The adamantium bones supported the perfect muscles, and the cold, clearly practiced palm...and Mystique, for all of her fearlessness, for all of her physical toughness and mental stamina, and all of her combat training, was _helpless _to do anything to stop him.

Raven had never known such a complete and total thrill in her life.

The fact that his hand was now softly rubbing, pressing ever so lightly against her extra sensitive sitting place (and perilously close to other places of interest), probably helped. It was hard to believe that his hands, harder and less forgiving than steel, could be soft and graceful and so, so comforting.

Tears soaked Mystique's face. She felt weak at the knees, her legs almost numb. Were it not for the desk supporting her she'd certainly have collapsed in place. Her rear end stung so badly that even the reassuring pressure of Logan's hand massaging them caused her fingers to bend inward.

"More," she trembled, almost lacking the strength to say it.

Sure and steady as ever, Logan's hand raised off of her skin, she felt a rush of cool air, and then his hand would come down like the wrath of God and reignite the flames. Lacking the will or the desire to show any sort of restraint, Raven allowed her body to convulse each time she was struck. Writhing and wiggling like a worm on a hook, primal cries pouring out of her body. A strong and dominant woman reduced to a weak, vulnerable and submissive girl at the hands of a stronger and more dominant male.

Raven barely noticed the pause as Logan sat on the desk; she still felt like she was sitting on a hornet's nest. But soon, she found that she could not hear the thunderous smacks. Only her heavy, unsteady breathing. Her hand stretched over and felt for his hand...and he took hers. The same hand that ruthlessly, savagely whaled away at her mere moments ago was now squeezing her own hand, too weak to even cling back, tightly, warmly, lovingly.

She cried for almost a minute...it felt good to cry. Hiding behind masks, disappearing into roles was something that was easy for Mystique, the mutant shapeshifter and criminal mastermind. But she had become so good at it that it was hard for her to even remember that there was a human behind the mask. Raven Darkholme, the only name she had clung to as long as Mystique, the way she identified the real woman behind the facade of Mystique.

Years of being hated and persecuted simply for being different had conditioned her to be cold, unfeeling and distant, even from herself. Bottling up her emotions, a lifetime of pain, anger, self-loathing and guilt over some truly terrible decisions. Callously throwing her child into a river to save her own skin. Lying to and manipulating her adoptive daughter so much that their relationship could not be mended. The events of an alternate time line in which her assassination of Senator Kelly led to the enslavement of mutant kind. The blind, stupid tryst with the monster Sabretooth that led to the birth of Grayden Creed, the evil, demented and crueler monster that made life nearly unbearable for young mutants.

Sabretooth had attracted her in much the same way Logan attracted her at first. He was a strong, dominating, wild and untamed beast, much like Logan. But Sabretooth had no self-control, no desire to be anything more than an animal. Giving into him was a base submission to the alpha male, proof that _homo superior _was not all that evolved from their cavemen days. But Logan...Logan was different.

Yes, he could be dominant, ruthless, even violent. The spanking...it hurt her, caused her pain, but thrilled her, sent her into a wild lust. A desire to be possessed by him, feel him inside of her, claiming her as his prize...that, that was not so different from Sabretooth. But now...now Logan was tightly holding her hand, as only lovers do. Rubbing her back, softly, helping her breaths become steadier. Stroking her hair, taking the ponytail out. This...this was the reason she loved Logan.

Why she was not afraid to cry.

Why she was free to be Raven.


End file.
